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AAA
by sharim
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TITLE: AAA
SPOILERS: NONE
RATING: G
SUMMARY: AAA emergency hotline.
CATEGORY: Real silliness.
ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack, Fanfiction.net. Anywhere else, please ask first.
*
Hands in his pockets, Jack O’Neill sauntered into the mess hall, his eyes scanning the many tables and chairs scattered throughout the room. Spying his second and the base CMO sitting at a table to the side, Jack grabbed a pie from the serving bench and made his way across to the two women.
"I’m telling you, Janet, they don’t come any smaller."
"But when I was looking with Cassie the other day I found some smaller than double A."
"Triple A," Jack inserted helpfully as he slid into a seat beside Carter. "They call them triple A’s."
Both Fraiser and Carter looked at him oddly.
"What?"
They shifted uncomfortably on their chairs for a second. Fraiser shrugged. "I told you they came smaller than double A’s."
"Why would they *need* to be any smaller than double A’s?" Carter demanded. "I mean, that’s what the other types are for."
"You mean the little round ones?" Jack frowned, slightly confused.
Again, both women gazed at him oddly. "Colonel?" Carter asked hesitantly.
"The small round ones, you know, the flat ones."
Fraiser coughed slightly.
"You okay?" Carter asked.
"Fine," the doctor croaked, grinning.
Jack was starting to feel very uncomfortable.
Fraiser grinned at him broadly, a wicked glint in her eye.
Yes, very uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat.
"Small, flat, round ones?" Fraiser repeated slowly.
Yes, very very uncomfortable. Carter was starting to look less confused and more amused.
"So... what exactly are you guys talking about?" O’Neill asked hesitantly, poking half-heartedly at the pie on his plate.
He was surprised to see Carter’s cheeks flush a delicate shade of pink, and she looked down to her empty plate in what could only be described as embarrassment.
Actually, Jack didn’t want to know what they were talking about-
"Bra sizes," Fraiser announced loudly. O’Neill choked on his coffee, splattering his pie. "We were talking about bra sizes." Could she have said that any louder?
The gentle hum of talking people died swiftly in the mess hall.
"Bra sizes?" O’Neill squeaked. He actually squeaked. And then he coughed again, trying to clear his throat.
Carter’s face was no longer delicately pink, it was now racing towards cherry red. O’Neill was willing to bet his was redder.
"Yes, Sir. We were discussing bra sizes, and Sam seems to think that you don’t get bra’s any smaller than a double A."
They sized bras with letters?
"You don’t," Carter inserted determinedly. "They stop being ‘bra’ bras then, and turn into training bras or sports bras."
You got training bras?
His head was spinning... More coughing...
"Sir? Are you okay?" Fraiser asked innocently.
"Fine." His voice was still at least ten octaves higher than usual. "I’m... I’m... I need more pie."
He stood up, bumping the table and sending Fraiser’s coffee slopping everywhere. "Sorry.. I..."
"Sir?" Fraiser smiled guilelessly up at him.
"Yes?" At least his voice was slowly descending and his breathing returning to normal.
"What did you think we were talking about?"
So much for a graceful exit...
Carter gazed at him, amusement now present in her blue eyes.
"Sir?" Fraiser pressed. The woman had absolutely no mercy. None what so ever.
He wanted to die. Really die. He studied the coffee splattered piece of soggy pie on his plate. Yes, dying would be good.
He sighed and closed his eyes. "Batteries."
~~~~~~~~~~
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Disclaimer: Ice cream rocks. If you have a problem with it, you're weird. Oh, and there's no point in suing. Trust me on this. Oh yeah, only the fic idea is mine.
